As Eraser Head and his U.A. students arrived at the Hero Public Safety Commission’s private facility, a stunned silence fell over the group. The building stood tall and imposing beyond the iron gates—grand enough to resemble an old-world mansion, its dark stone walls half-swallowed by towering trees and thick greenery. It looked less like a government headquarters and more like the secluded estate of someone who didn’t want to be found.

Even the air felt different here—clean, cold, and heavy with authority.

Kirishima let out a low whistle, craning his neck to take it all in. “Damn… they stay here?”

“Why does it look like a villain hideout?” Kaminari muttered, squinting suspiciously as if expecting traps to spring from the ground.

“It’s elegant,” Yaoyorozu commented quietly, though her tone carried unease. “But… it feels unsettling.”

Jirou’s jacks twitched slightly as she listened to the atmosphere around them. “Yeah. Too quiet.”

Beside them, Bakugo clicked his tongue, arms crossed. “Tch. This place reeks of rich-people paranoia.”

Midoriya, already spiraling into analysis, stared wide-eyed at the structure. “This has to be reinforced. Probably underground sections too… maybe emergency evacuation tunnels—”

“Deku,” Uraraka whispered, gently tugging his sleeve. “Breathe.”

Aizawa’s tired eyes swept over his class, his capture weapon resting loosely around his neck. “Stay alert. Don’t touch anything unless you’re told.”

Before anyone could respond, a familiar shadow swept down from above.

Hawks landed with practiced ease, his wings folding in close as his sharp gaze flicked across the trees, the windows, the roofline—like he was checking for threats out of habit. His expression didn’t carry his usual lazy smile.

“…Been a while,” he muttered, voice quieter than normal.

Behind him, a few other pro heroes approached as well—Best Jeanist, crisp and composed, his gaze assessing the students with calm professionalism. Mirko stood with her arms folded, clearly unimpressed by the fancy scenery.

“So this is the Commission’s little nest,” Mirko scoffed. “Looks like a place people go to disappear.”

Edgeshot remained nearly silent, presence barely noticeable until he spoke. “Security is… excessive.”

Even Endeavor was there, towering and stern, the flames around his shoulders subdued but still simmering with impatience. “Let’s not waste time. We’re here for answers.”

Hawks ignored the commentary, reaching into his coat and pulling out a sleek black key card. For a moment, he stared at it as if it carried memories he didn’t want to revisit.

Then, with a quiet beep, the iron gate unlocked.

The metal groaned open, and the group stepped through.

The path to the mansion was lined with stone and moss, the trees above forming a canopy that blocked most of the sunlight. It felt like walking into a different world—one where the Commission’s eyes were always watching.

Hawks reached the front door and placed his hand on the strange, X-shaped handle. His fingers tightened slightly before he twisted it.

Click.

The heavy door creaked open, revealing the interior—dim lighting, polished floors, and walls decorated with old portraits and Commission insignias that felt more like warnings than decorations.

A cold hush greeted them.

Hawks stepped inside first, cautious, his wings shifting slightly as if ready to move at any second.

“Welcome,” he said, voice flat.

Behind him, Class 1-A slowly filed in, their earlier awe replaced with something closer to nervous tension.

Because whatever secrets this place held…

They were standing right at the entrance.